The House of the Earth Part 2 (5/8): No Sanctuary
Title: Chapter Five: No Sanctuary
Pairing/Characters: Kal-El, Bruce Wayne, Kara Zor-El, Zhon-Mal (J'onn J'onnz)
Notes: " The House of the Earth" is an AU in which a few thousand Kryptonians escaped the destruction of Krypton to flee to Earth and enslave its people.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3400
Summary: Kal and Bruce go to Metropolis and have a couple of unnerving conversations.
Kara flourished the papers at her cousin. "Finished!"
Kal took them gingerly from her. Kara and Bruce looked at him as if wondering he was going to incinerate them again. He looked at them: This human male [Bruce] is the property and possession of [Kal-El of the House of El]. More formal Kryptonian followed, describing the human's appearance, but the basics were clear from the first sentence.
He held them out to Bruce. "Want to check them?"
Bruce pored over the papers carefully, his brow furrowed. "They seem to be in order. They'll make it possible to travel. And just in time, too." He flashed a look at Kara. "If the Cat's openly using Kryptonite, you know I have to talk to Lex. It's the only place she could have gotten any without us knowing it."
As Kara grimaced thoughtfully, Kal cut in. "Who's Lex? Why's he got Kryptonite? And why wouldn't you know about it? You're all human, so aren't you all...on the same side?"
Kara chuckled. "Where are you going to start with that tangled knot of questions, Bruce?"
Bruce's smile was sardonic. "I guess we can start with the 'all on the same side' issue and go from there." He handed Kal the papers that made him the Kryptonian's property in the eyes of the law. "There are a lot of different sides. Some sides are aiming for...less radical solutions to the situation." A dry, humorless bark of a laugh. "Lex's is not one of those sides. Our faction and his have both been stockpiling Kryptonite when we can get our hands on it. We don't know how much he has."
"Selina...works for him?"
This time it was Kara who laughed. "The Cat works for no one but herself. But her interests and Lex's coincide fairly often."
Kal touched the healing scar on his chest absently, remembering Selina's jade-green eyes glowing with hate from the shadows. "I wish I could talk to her again."
"You might get your chance," Kara said. "Zhon's heard rumors that there's going to be a parley between Lex's faction and Irons' group sometime in the next few days. He hasn't been able to get the details yet, though."
Bruce sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down a bit absently. "I have to get to that meeting."
"Are you going to tell them about Kal and I?"
"I'm going to have to." Bruce grimaced. "Lex may be a megalomaniac, but he's nominally on our side. He needs to know what resources we have. And maybe if we can convince him some Kryptonians can be trusted..."
Kara snorted, an unladylike sound. "He doesn't trust Zhon, and he knows he's not a Kryptonian. It's humans or nothing with Lex."
"I still have to try," Bruce said stubbornly. "If we don't keep the lines of communication open, he's even more likely to do something rash."
Kara looked dubious, but she let it drop, turning back to Kal. "You can ask my father to borrow one of the cars."
Kal frowned. "I thought I'd just fly."
Kara arched an eloquent eyebrow. "Bruce can't fly."
"I know that! I thought I'd, uh..."
Bruce chuckled. "Kryptonians don't carry humans around, Kal. It's demeaning." He stretched, cracking joints. "So, much as I would love to fly away with you, the car it will be."
: : :
Kal banked the car and they floated down toward Metropolis. The city was one of the very few left un-razed after the Arrival; as Kal looked down at it he could see how the Kryptonian architecture overlay the human structures. The result was an odd mix: spires and fluted buttresses with a bedrock solidity of concrete and steel.
Odd and yet beautiful.
In the seat behind him, Bruce was silent, gazing down as well. Kal turned to look at him, and he made the tiny hand signal that meant "Situation acceptable, do not interfere." The five silvery spheres were packed in Kal's bag, the circle of silence waiting to be brought to life again. There was no sanctuary at the moment.
The car glided into the garage and Kal let them into the El apartment. Usually when the family came to Metropolis they were back in Gotham by evening, but sometimes there were meetings and parties to be held and the apartment was convenient. Bruce unpacked their things, hanging them up neatly; when Kal had tried to help he had merely shooed "Master" away with a wry smile. He wished desperately for the silver spheres to buffer them against the world again, but Bruce had merely touched them lightly, running a finger over their shining surface, then tucked them back in the bag again with an odd, almost pained smile. Kal gritted his teeth; he knew he shouldn't get too dependent on the safe zone created by the gadgets, but somehow it made his soul ache to know there was nowhere in the world now Bruce could safely call him by his name.
They ate the sandwiches they'd brought from the El household in silence, Kal unable to talk to Bruce openly and unwilling to treat the man as his inferior. As Kal finished eating, he was startled as the door chimed.
"Collar," Bruce murmured, and Kal hurriedly snapped it in place, apologizing with his eyes, before answering the door.
Syra Rafe-Em hovered in the doorway, her platinum-blond hair in elaborate braids around her face, her amber eyes sharp. "Kal-El! Dear heart!" she exclaimed, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "I heard you were in town, but you haven't come to call on me yet, you naughty boy." She held two chains in her hands; behind her stood two very tall women, their eyes cast politely down. One had rich golden hair and pale skin, while the other had darker skin and reddish-brown hair.
"I just arrived in town," Kal said as Syra swept into the room, her two slaves padding behind her.
Syra pouted. "I would have thought I'd be your first priority. You haven't even called once, and you've been back on Earth for almost a week now." She picked a grape up off the table and popped it in her mouth. Then her pale eyebrows rose as she seemed to notice Bruce for the first time. He stood quietly by the table as she looked him over carefully. "I heard you had a personal slave now." She reached out and took his chin in her hand, tilting his face up to the light. "Oh, blue eyes!" Syra's face lit up and she reached out to peel his lips away from his teeth. "Good teeth, too."
Kal's vision went gray; dimly he saw Bruce making the do not interfere hand signal. He took a deep breath as Syra pulled Bruce's shirt up to pat at his stomach and chest, her movements clinical and dispassionate. She tsked as she turned him around. "I do hate it when people cut up their slaves like that. The effects are so ugly. I'm surprised you were willing to accept such damaged goods."
Do not interfere. "He serves me well anyway," Kal said, the words like blood and ashes in his mouth.
"He's a little over-muscled, but that's not genetic," Syra said critically. "And I like his cheekbones. He'd make a good stud to my Mercy," she said, waving her hand at the blonde slave. "I'm trying to get a more decorative strain, one with a little more grace, to be more ornamental, better lap pets. The blue eyes are a nice feature," she mused.
"You're..." Kal choked a little. "You're breeding humans?"
Syra met his eyes then, and her golden ones flared with a sudden glint of bitter pain. "Dear, innocent Kal. Aren't we all just breeding stock, when you get right down to it?"
Kal stared at her, unable to answer either her pain or her cruelty, and she looked back at Bruce. "Do you know if he's been proven fertile?" she asked, patting his hips thoughtfully. "It would be a waste if he was unable to spawn. Ask him if he has any young."
Do not interfere. Kal switched into English, struggling to keep his voice level. "The Mistress wishes to know if you have any offspring," he said, the stilted language like a shield against anguish.
"None I know of, Master," Bruce said, his voice low.
Syra's lips thinned. "Well, he'll need to be tested. When our households are merged, I'll want to put him to useful work." Again the spark of anger, nearly hate. She whirled from Bruce dismissively, picking another grape off the table. "You're here for the Caucus? I suppose you'll be going to Vek-Ozh's party tonight." Her voice was vaguely contemptuous.
"I...don't think I've received an invitation."
Syra's laugh was harsh. "You're of the House of El. Of course you're invited." Her eyes softened somewhat at Kal's bemused expression. "I suppose you don't have much choice but to go. And everyone needs to...blow off some steam sometimes." Her eyes flicked briefly to Bruce again and her expression hardened once more. "Well, have fun," she said briefly. "I just wanted to say hello and welcome back to scenic Earth. And now I'm off to visit my niece." She blew a quick kiss to him and was gone, her slaves trailing after her.
Silence fell in her wake, gray and heavy. After a moment, Bruce went to rummage in Kal's bag, taking out the five spheres. Kal watched as he set them in place and tapped them to activate them. "Interesting woman," Bruce said dispassionately as they hummed to life.
"Interesting?" Kal choked on outrage. "She's a monster."
"She's what the system has made her." Bruce's glance slanted by Kal's, not quite meeting. "It brutalizes your people as well, Kal. Makes you cruel and coarse, when you could be so much more. The tragedy is not all ours."
Kal shook his head dumbly. "You should hate us all. You have so much cause. You should hate Kara. You should hate--" he broke off and swallowed.
Bruce flipped absent-mindedly into a handstand, which had the side effect of making it impossible to meet Kal's eyes. "The man who pulled the trigger that killed my parents was a human," he noted. "Not Kryptonian. Each person makes their own choices. It's what you do that matters." He closed his eyes. "I have to believe that." He lifted onto one hand, cautiously, remaining balanced. "Hate is a waste of energy. I learned long ago that passions like hatred were a luxury. Inefficient. I don't allow myself passions that cloud my judgment." He opened his eyes again, clear and clinical. "Ever." He flipped back to his feet with the air of a man changing the subject. "Have you gotten an invitation to the Vek-Ozh party yet?"
"I'm not going to any damn party tonight," Kal said, knowing he sounded sullen. "This Caucus in the afternoon is bad enough--"
"--I need you to go to that 'damn party' tonight. And take me. That's the reason I'm here."
"It is?"
"These big galas are held only four times a year, when there are a surplus of bored young Kryptonians in the capital attending the quarterly meetings. People gather to see and be seen, to eat and drink and try the latest exotic offworld drug, to...play. And they bring their human toys along. It's an ideal time for humans to make connections, to do some hasty communicating while the partygoers are intoxicated or distracted."
Kal felt an uncomfortable cold in his gut. Human toys. "I don't think I like the sound of this."
Bruce looked at him directly then, as if he could hear Kal's fears. "I'll try to get the information as quickly as possible. Things usually start with a rather sedate dinner for all ages. It's only after dinner that things get complicated. I'll get what I need and we'll get out. But Kal," he added, "If I can't make the connection in time...you have to see it through. You can't draw attention to us. So drink a little, try to avoid the drugs, and if things get...complicated..." His jaw set and he went on, "...we'll both do what we have to do." His eyes searched Kal's face. Whatever he saw there made him frown and reach out to shake the Kryptonian slightly, hands on his shoulders. "Promise me you won't blow our cover."
"I'll...try."
Bruce looked unmollified. "If you care about the Earth, or freedom, or our lives, you'll do better than try." The hands on Kal's shoulders tightened, not harshly. "Trust me, Kal. Trust me to understand that whatever you do is necessary. Trust me to understand that if you have to..." He hesitated, searching for words, "...to use me, it's for the good of the world and no other reason." His smile was small, almost intimate; he made the tiny gesture that meant continue. "You can trust me, Kal."
As Kal headed toward his meeting, he remembered the look on Bruce's face: Trust me. He trusted Bruce. Oh, he trusted Bruce.
He just wasn't sure he could trust himself.
: : :
The Caucus meeting was winding down when Kal's pager buzzed slightly. Embarrassed--he had no idea who might be sending him a message right now--Kal flipped it open as the meeting began to break up.
Vek-Ozh, sitting next to Kal, leaned over to look at the screen before Kal could move it away. He laughed, brushing a hand through sandy hair. "Oh, a personal invite to meet with Zhon-Mal! Poor Kal, he'll chew your ear off with whatever his latest crackpot plan for racial purity is."
"He wants to meet right after this meeting."
"You'd better go then. Sitting through two hours of ranting by Zhon-Mal is a rite of passage for all young Kryptonians." Vek grinned and whacked Kal on the shoulder. "Then you'll truly deserve to have some fun tonight." He stood and headed out the door. "Bring something pretty!" he threw back over his shoulder.
Frowning, Kal floated through the marble halls to Zhon's tiny, out-of-the-way office.
As he entered the room, Zhon rose from behind his desk with a warning gesture. The Martian went to a corner of the room, and soon Kal felt the now-familiar tingle of energy that indicated the room was shielded.
"I wanted to welcome you to Metropolis," Zhon said as Kal sat down, offering him a plate with black discs on it. Kal picked one up. They were some kind of sweet crackers with white frosting spread between them. Zhon laughed at his puzzled expression. "I was able to save some of the world's supply of Chocos during the Arrival. Try one. They're quite delicious."
The snack crunched in Kal's mouth, extremely sweet. Zhon watched his face. "It's delicious," Kal said. "Does Bruce like them? May I have one to take to him?"
Zhon nodded gravely and handed Kal a small packet of brown paper. "He likes them, yes."
Kal looked around the room, the sweet taste still in his mouth. Books on Kryptonian superiority, a statue of Yuda, a painting showing the Arrival: noble Kryptonians appearing before cringing humans, their eyes dull and awed. Zhon followed his gaze. "It's a reminder," he said.
"How can you stand it? The pretense, the lies, spouting propaganda day after day."
Zhon gave him a long, level look. "I tell as much of the truth as I can. In my own way."
"You sat there in front of Bruce and announced that being in a relationship with a slave was as possible as being in a relationship with a chair!" Kal felt indignation choking him at the memory.
For just a moment, the Martian's eyes glowed deep ruby, like banked coals. "I spoke the truth, Kal-El." He shook his head as Kal gaped at him. "You cannot be in a relationship with something you own beyond that of an owner and a thing."
"I can't believe that's true," Kal said numbly. "Bruce isn't a thing. He's...he's...Bruce." He bit his lip, realizing he had given something away, something he hadn't wanted to give away even to himself. Too late now.
"You may treat him kindly. You may even be fond of him. But in the eyes of the world, the eyes of the law, he is your property." There was a glint of something like pity in Zhon's eyes, but his voice was implacable. "However you act in the privacy of your rooms, in the reality of the system you are inextricably part of, he has no choice and you have all the power. You may play at being equals in private, you may even both enjoy the game--but you are not equals in the eyes of the world, and you can never be as long as you own his body as you own your shoes. This is not something you have a choice in, Kal-El. You don't have the power to redefine yourself and your relationship with Bruce. The system you belong to does that."
Kal found himself out of his chair. His heart was aching somehow; not the Kryptonite scar. Something deeper. "You're a telepath. Read my mind and tell me if I see Bruce as my inferior." Zhon shook his head. "Tell me!"
The Martian's jaw set. "It is not my place to tell you your heart, Kal-El. Only you can ever do that."
"I need to go," Kal said dully. He picked up the package of Chocos. A gift. A game. "Thank you for having me."
Zhon's voice stopped him at the door. "Kal-El. You seem a good man. But you need to understand. In this world, there is no safe space for a Kryptonian and a human to have a true relationship. You may care for him. You may even love him." Kal didn't turn around. "But you must understand that this is the cause we've chosen. Sacrificing your life is one thing. But are you ready to sacrifice your happiness, your hope, to free humanity? If you could save the world and lose Bruce forever, would you do it? Or would you let the world burn to be with him?"
"Are those my only choices?" Kal said without looking back, his back stiff.
There might have been a small smile in Zhon's voice. "I hope not. But any choice you have will be difficult. That's the world we live in, the world you and Bruce live in." Zhon sighed, the humor gone from his voice. "As things are, Kal-El, there is no safe place where you can be together. There can be no sanctuary for you in this world."
: : :
"Chocos," Bruce said with a pleased smile. "Zhon remembered me."
"He sent his regards," Kal said.
Bruce looked at him sharply. "Are you all right?"
Kal didn't meet his eyes. "I'm fine."
Bruce looked uncertain, but when Kal showed no incination to explain further he shrugged. "The dinner starts soon; we should get going." He put the packet on the table. "I'll save that for later." When Kal didn't move, Bruce picked up his collar and pushed it into Kal's hand. "Kal. It's showtime again."
Showtime. Kal looked down at the collar, then up at Bruce. "Do I have your permission to put this on you?"
"I'm ready."
If he had said no, Kal could have merely clamped the collar on despite his objections, could have destroyed the spheres and reduced Bruce to chattel, and no law in the world would gainsay him. There was nothing between Bruce and abject abuse but Kal's goodwill.
And that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for anything.
The collar slid on with a cold, final click. Kal felt something like grief stopping his throat. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his hands still on the shining silver.
Bruce reached up and touched the hands that owned him. "We do what we have to do," he said.
"Yes."
As they left the room, Kal felt a brief impulse to stop, to linger a moment longer in the sphere of silence, the bubble of safety. But no. That was an illusion.
There was no sanctuary.
Pairing/Characters: Kal-El, Bruce Wayne, Kara Zor-El, Zhon-Mal (J'onn J'onnz)
Notes: " The House of the Earth" is an AU in which a few thousand Kryptonians escaped the destruction of Krypton to flee to Earth and enslave its people.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3400
Summary: Kal and Bruce go to Metropolis and have a couple of unnerving conversations.
Kara flourished the papers at her cousin. "Finished!"
Kal took them gingerly from her. Kara and Bruce looked at him as if wondering he was going to incinerate them again. He looked at them: This human male [Bruce] is the property and possession of [Kal-El of the House of El]. More formal Kryptonian followed, describing the human's appearance, but the basics were clear from the first sentence.
He held them out to Bruce. "Want to check them?"
Bruce pored over the papers carefully, his brow furrowed. "They seem to be in order. They'll make it possible to travel. And just in time, too." He flashed a look at Kara. "If the Cat's openly using Kryptonite, you know I have to talk to Lex. It's the only place she could have gotten any without us knowing it."
As Kara grimaced thoughtfully, Kal cut in. "Who's Lex? Why's he got Kryptonite? And why wouldn't you know about it? You're all human, so aren't you all...on the same side?"
Kara chuckled. "Where are you going to start with that tangled knot of questions, Bruce?"
Bruce's smile was sardonic. "I guess we can start with the 'all on the same side' issue and go from there." He handed Kal the papers that made him the Kryptonian's property in the eyes of the law. "There are a lot of different sides. Some sides are aiming for...less radical solutions to the situation." A dry, humorless bark of a laugh. "Lex's is not one of those sides. Our faction and his have both been stockpiling Kryptonite when we can get our hands on it. We don't know how much he has."
"Selina...works for him?"
This time it was Kara who laughed. "The Cat works for no one but herself. But her interests and Lex's coincide fairly often."
Kal touched the healing scar on his chest absently, remembering Selina's jade-green eyes glowing with hate from the shadows. "I wish I could talk to her again."
"You might get your chance," Kara said. "Zhon's heard rumors that there's going to be a parley between Lex's faction and Irons' group sometime in the next few days. He hasn't been able to get the details yet, though."
Bruce sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down a bit absently. "I have to get to that meeting."
"Are you going to tell them about Kal and I?"
"I'm going to have to." Bruce grimaced. "Lex may be a megalomaniac, but he's nominally on our side. He needs to know what resources we have. And maybe if we can convince him some Kryptonians can be trusted..."
Kara snorted, an unladylike sound. "He doesn't trust Zhon, and he knows he's not a Kryptonian. It's humans or nothing with Lex."
"I still have to try," Bruce said stubbornly. "If we don't keep the lines of communication open, he's even more likely to do something rash."
Kara looked dubious, but she let it drop, turning back to Kal. "You can ask my father to borrow one of the cars."
Kal frowned. "I thought I'd just fly."
Kara arched an eloquent eyebrow. "Bruce can't fly."
"I know that! I thought I'd, uh..."
Bruce chuckled. "Kryptonians don't carry humans around, Kal. It's demeaning." He stretched, cracking joints. "So, much as I would love to fly away with you, the car it will be."
: : :
Kal banked the car and they floated down toward Metropolis. The city was one of the very few left un-razed after the Arrival; as Kal looked down at it he could see how the Kryptonian architecture overlay the human structures. The result was an odd mix: spires and fluted buttresses with a bedrock solidity of concrete and steel.
Odd and yet beautiful.
In the seat behind him, Bruce was silent, gazing down as well. Kal turned to look at him, and he made the tiny hand signal that meant "Situation acceptable, do not interfere." The five silvery spheres were packed in Kal's bag, the circle of silence waiting to be brought to life again. There was no sanctuary at the moment.
The car glided into the garage and Kal let them into the El apartment. Usually when the family came to Metropolis they were back in Gotham by evening, but sometimes there were meetings and parties to be held and the apartment was convenient. Bruce unpacked their things, hanging them up neatly; when Kal had tried to help he had merely shooed "Master" away with a wry smile. He wished desperately for the silver spheres to buffer them against the world again, but Bruce had merely touched them lightly, running a finger over their shining surface, then tucked them back in the bag again with an odd, almost pained smile. Kal gritted his teeth; he knew he shouldn't get too dependent on the safe zone created by the gadgets, but somehow it made his soul ache to know there was nowhere in the world now Bruce could safely call him by his name.
They ate the sandwiches they'd brought from the El household in silence, Kal unable to talk to Bruce openly and unwilling to treat the man as his inferior. As Kal finished eating, he was startled as the door chimed.
"Collar," Bruce murmured, and Kal hurriedly snapped it in place, apologizing with his eyes, before answering the door.
Syra Rafe-Em hovered in the doorway, her platinum-blond hair in elaborate braids around her face, her amber eyes sharp. "Kal-El! Dear heart!" she exclaimed, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "I heard you were in town, but you haven't come to call on me yet, you naughty boy." She held two chains in her hands; behind her stood two very tall women, their eyes cast politely down. One had rich golden hair and pale skin, while the other had darker skin and reddish-brown hair.
"I just arrived in town," Kal said as Syra swept into the room, her two slaves padding behind her.
Syra pouted. "I would have thought I'd be your first priority. You haven't even called once, and you've been back on Earth for almost a week now." She picked a grape up off the table and popped it in her mouth. Then her pale eyebrows rose as she seemed to notice Bruce for the first time. He stood quietly by the table as she looked him over carefully. "I heard you had a personal slave now." She reached out and took his chin in her hand, tilting his face up to the light. "Oh, blue eyes!" Syra's face lit up and she reached out to peel his lips away from his teeth. "Good teeth, too."
Kal's vision went gray; dimly he saw Bruce making the do not interfere hand signal. He took a deep breath as Syra pulled Bruce's shirt up to pat at his stomach and chest, her movements clinical and dispassionate. She tsked as she turned him around. "I do hate it when people cut up their slaves like that. The effects are so ugly. I'm surprised you were willing to accept such damaged goods."
Do not interfere. "He serves me well anyway," Kal said, the words like blood and ashes in his mouth.
"He's a little over-muscled, but that's not genetic," Syra said critically. "And I like his cheekbones. He'd make a good stud to my Mercy," she said, waving her hand at the blonde slave. "I'm trying to get a more decorative strain, one with a little more grace, to be more ornamental, better lap pets. The blue eyes are a nice feature," she mused.
"You're..." Kal choked a little. "You're breeding humans?"
Syra met his eyes then, and her golden ones flared with a sudden glint of bitter pain. "Dear, innocent Kal. Aren't we all just breeding stock, when you get right down to it?"
Kal stared at her, unable to answer either her pain or her cruelty, and she looked back at Bruce. "Do you know if he's been proven fertile?" she asked, patting his hips thoughtfully. "It would be a waste if he was unable to spawn. Ask him if he has any young."
Do not interfere. Kal switched into English, struggling to keep his voice level. "The Mistress wishes to know if you have any offspring," he said, the stilted language like a shield against anguish.
"None I know of, Master," Bruce said, his voice low.
Syra's lips thinned. "Well, he'll need to be tested. When our households are merged, I'll want to put him to useful work." Again the spark of anger, nearly hate. She whirled from Bruce dismissively, picking another grape off the table. "You're here for the Caucus? I suppose you'll be going to Vek-Ozh's party tonight." Her voice was vaguely contemptuous.
"I...don't think I've received an invitation."
Syra's laugh was harsh. "You're of the House of El. Of course you're invited." Her eyes softened somewhat at Kal's bemused expression. "I suppose you don't have much choice but to go. And everyone needs to...blow off some steam sometimes." Her eyes flicked briefly to Bruce again and her expression hardened once more. "Well, have fun," she said briefly. "I just wanted to say hello and welcome back to scenic Earth. And now I'm off to visit my niece." She blew a quick kiss to him and was gone, her slaves trailing after her.
Silence fell in her wake, gray and heavy. After a moment, Bruce went to rummage in Kal's bag, taking out the five spheres. Kal watched as he set them in place and tapped them to activate them. "Interesting woman," Bruce said dispassionately as they hummed to life.
"Interesting?" Kal choked on outrage. "She's a monster."
"She's what the system has made her." Bruce's glance slanted by Kal's, not quite meeting. "It brutalizes your people as well, Kal. Makes you cruel and coarse, when you could be so much more. The tragedy is not all ours."
Kal shook his head dumbly. "You should hate us all. You have so much cause. You should hate Kara. You should hate--" he broke off and swallowed.
Bruce flipped absent-mindedly into a handstand, which had the side effect of making it impossible to meet Kal's eyes. "The man who pulled the trigger that killed my parents was a human," he noted. "Not Kryptonian. Each person makes their own choices. It's what you do that matters." He closed his eyes. "I have to believe that." He lifted onto one hand, cautiously, remaining balanced. "Hate is a waste of energy. I learned long ago that passions like hatred were a luxury. Inefficient. I don't allow myself passions that cloud my judgment." He opened his eyes again, clear and clinical. "Ever." He flipped back to his feet with the air of a man changing the subject. "Have you gotten an invitation to the Vek-Ozh party yet?"
"I'm not going to any damn party tonight," Kal said, knowing he sounded sullen. "This Caucus in the afternoon is bad enough--"
"--I need you to go to that 'damn party' tonight. And take me. That's the reason I'm here."
"It is?"
"These big galas are held only four times a year, when there are a surplus of bored young Kryptonians in the capital attending the quarterly meetings. People gather to see and be seen, to eat and drink and try the latest exotic offworld drug, to...play. And they bring their human toys along. It's an ideal time for humans to make connections, to do some hasty communicating while the partygoers are intoxicated or distracted."
Kal felt an uncomfortable cold in his gut. Human toys. "I don't think I like the sound of this."
Bruce looked at him directly then, as if he could hear Kal's fears. "I'll try to get the information as quickly as possible. Things usually start with a rather sedate dinner for all ages. It's only after dinner that things get complicated. I'll get what I need and we'll get out. But Kal," he added, "If I can't make the connection in time...you have to see it through. You can't draw attention to us. So drink a little, try to avoid the drugs, and if things get...complicated..." His jaw set and he went on, "...we'll both do what we have to do." His eyes searched Kal's face. Whatever he saw there made him frown and reach out to shake the Kryptonian slightly, hands on his shoulders. "Promise me you won't blow our cover."
"I'll...try."
Bruce looked unmollified. "If you care about the Earth, or freedom, or our lives, you'll do better than try." The hands on Kal's shoulders tightened, not harshly. "Trust me, Kal. Trust me to understand that whatever you do is necessary. Trust me to understand that if you have to..." He hesitated, searching for words, "...to use me, it's for the good of the world and no other reason." His smile was small, almost intimate; he made the tiny gesture that meant continue. "You can trust me, Kal."
As Kal headed toward his meeting, he remembered the look on Bruce's face: Trust me. He trusted Bruce. Oh, he trusted Bruce.
He just wasn't sure he could trust himself.
: : :
The Caucus meeting was winding down when Kal's pager buzzed slightly. Embarrassed--he had no idea who might be sending him a message right now--Kal flipped it open as the meeting began to break up.
Vek-Ozh, sitting next to Kal, leaned over to look at the screen before Kal could move it away. He laughed, brushing a hand through sandy hair. "Oh, a personal invite to meet with Zhon-Mal! Poor Kal, he'll chew your ear off with whatever his latest crackpot plan for racial purity is."
"He wants to meet right after this meeting."
"You'd better go then. Sitting through two hours of ranting by Zhon-Mal is a rite of passage for all young Kryptonians." Vek grinned and whacked Kal on the shoulder. "Then you'll truly deserve to have some fun tonight." He stood and headed out the door. "Bring something pretty!" he threw back over his shoulder.
Frowning, Kal floated through the marble halls to Zhon's tiny, out-of-the-way office.
As he entered the room, Zhon rose from behind his desk with a warning gesture. The Martian went to a corner of the room, and soon Kal felt the now-familiar tingle of energy that indicated the room was shielded.
"I wanted to welcome you to Metropolis," Zhon said as Kal sat down, offering him a plate with black discs on it. Kal picked one up. They were some kind of sweet crackers with white frosting spread between them. Zhon laughed at his puzzled expression. "I was able to save some of the world's supply of Chocos during the Arrival. Try one. They're quite delicious."
The snack crunched in Kal's mouth, extremely sweet. Zhon watched his face. "It's delicious," Kal said. "Does Bruce like them? May I have one to take to him?"
Zhon nodded gravely and handed Kal a small packet of brown paper. "He likes them, yes."
Kal looked around the room, the sweet taste still in his mouth. Books on Kryptonian superiority, a statue of Yuda, a painting showing the Arrival: noble Kryptonians appearing before cringing humans, their eyes dull and awed. Zhon followed his gaze. "It's a reminder," he said.
"How can you stand it? The pretense, the lies, spouting propaganda day after day."
Zhon gave him a long, level look. "I tell as much of the truth as I can. In my own way."
"You sat there in front of Bruce and announced that being in a relationship with a slave was as possible as being in a relationship with a chair!" Kal felt indignation choking him at the memory.
For just a moment, the Martian's eyes glowed deep ruby, like banked coals. "I spoke the truth, Kal-El." He shook his head as Kal gaped at him. "You cannot be in a relationship with something you own beyond that of an owner and a thing."
"I can't believe that's true," Kal said numbly. "Bruce isn't a thing. He's...he's...Bruce." He bit his lip, realizing he had given something away, something he hadn't wanted to give away even to himself. Too late now.
"You may treat him kindly. You may even be fond of him. But in the eyes of the world, the eyes of the law, he is your property." There was a glint of something like pity in Zhon's eyes, but his voice was implacable. "However you act in the privacy of your rooms, in the reality of the system you are inextricably part of, he has no choice and you have all the power. You may play at being equals in private, you may even both enjoy the game--but you are not equals in the eyes of the world, and you can never be as long as you own his body as you own your shoes. This is not something you have a choice in, Kal-El. You don't have the power to redefine yourself and your relationship with Bruce. The system you belong to does that."
Kal found himself out of his chair. His heart was aching somehow; not the Kryptonite scar. Something deeper. "You're a telepath. Read my mind and tell me if I see Bruce as my inferior." Zhon shook his head. "Tell me!"
The Martian's jaw set. "It is not my place to tell you your heart, Kal-El. Only you can ever do that."
"I need to go," Kal said dully. He picked up the package of Chocos. A gift. A game. "Thank you for having me."
Zhon's voice stopped him at the door. "Kal-El. You seem a good man. But you need to understand. In this world, there is no safe space for a Kryptonian and a human to have a true relationship. You may care for him. You may even love him." Kal didn't turn around. "But you must understand that this is the cause we've chosen. Sacrificing your life is one thing. But are you ready to sacrifice your happiness, your hope, to free humanity? If you could save the world and lose Bruce forever, would you do it? Or would you let the world burn to be with him?"
"Are those my only choices?" Kal said without looking back, his back stiff.
There might have been a small smile in Zhon's voice. "I hope not. But any choice you have will be difficult. That's the world we live in, the world you and Bruce live in." Zhon sighed, the humor gone from his voice. "As things are, Kal-El, there is no safe place where you can be together. There can be no sanctuary for you in this world."
: : :
"Chocos," Bruce said with a pleased smile. "Zhon remembered me."
"He sent his regards," Kal said.
Bruce looked at him sharply. "Are you all right?"
Kal didn't meet his eyes. "I'm fine."
Bruce looked uncertain, but when Kal showed no incination to explain further he shrugged. "The dinner starts soon; we should get going." He put the packet on the table. "I'll save that for later." When Kal didn't move, Bruce picked up his collar and pushed it into Kal's hand. "Kal. It's showtime again."
Showtime. Kal looked down at the collar, then up at Bruce. "Do I have your permission to put this on you?"
"I'm ready."
If he had said no, Kal could have merely clamped the collar on despite his objections, could have destroyed the spheres and reduced Bruce to chattel, and no law in the world would gainsay him. There was nothing between Bruce and abject abuse but Kal's goodwill.
And that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for anything.
The collar slid on with a cold, final click. Kal felt something like grief stopping his throat. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his hands still on the shining silver.
Bruce reached up and touched the hands that owned him. "We do what we have to do," he said.
"Yes."
As they left the room, Kal felt a brief impulse to stop, to linger a moment longer in the sphere of silence, the bubble of safety. But no. That was an illusion.
There was no sanctuary.